Time Conquers All
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Time always won in the end. Bonds of love and fellowship were eroded. Memories faded away into nothing. Mountains were weathered, temples crumbled, and the world moved on. In the end, time conquered all.


**Time Conquers All**

_Tempus Vincit Omnia_

Even though she couldn't understand the writing, Romani glanced at the carving made above the entrance to the Temple of Time before she walked into it. The structure was empty, as it always was. Occasionally a priest or a pilgrim might come to this place, but for a so-called temple, there was very little worship conducted within. People in Hyrule could worship one of the Golden Goddesses, or all three, or none, if they so chose, but the idea of a temple devoted to "time" was one that inspired little fervour. Even with the so-called Door of Time at the far end of the temple, even with the tales that behind that door lay the entrance to the Sacred Realm, few came to this place. Few except her father of course, knelt on the ground beside a satchel, a staff, and a sheathed sword. She'd dared hope that he wouldn't be here. That he'd have snapped himself out of the despair that had plagued him ever since her mother had died. She hoped for many things, yet had again been reminded that hope was like a summer breeze. Nice to have, but insubstantial, and lost all too easily.

And besides, he was there. Because of course he was, kneeling in front of the door like one of the other flagellants that came to this place, ranting on about time having been divided thrice. Her father at least had the dignity of praying in silence, but when you could only sink as far down as dirt, that wasn't saying much.

"Father," she said.

She could say that of course, for all the good it would do. He didn't hear her. He never did. Sighing, she walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Father," she repeated.

He slowly turned his head to look at her. Most people said that Romani had her mother's voice, but her father's face – a slightly more eloquent way of saying that she'd inherited his hair and his eyes, while almost everything had been taken from her mother. And even then, the resemblance between her and her father had faded, as his hair had turned grey, and after he'd lost his right eye to a moblin. Looking at the man below her now, Romani felt a surge of both pity and contempt. Pity, for all her father had lost over the years. Contempt, because even now, he refused to let go of the last vestiges of it.

"Romani," he whispered.

"Oh good, you remember me," she said. "It looks like we've got a good day."

"Romani, I've never forgotten you."

She let out a laugh that echoed throughout the temple. "Never forgotten me," she said. "Of course, father – while you were out gallivanting through Hyrule and beyond, you never forgot me. Or my mother.

"Romani…"

She sat down beside him, on the stone steps that led up to the Door of Time. "Of course, you didn't forget to be in Castle Town yesterday, did you?"

Her father's eyes narrowed.

"And of course," she murmured, lowering her gaze and rubbing her hands together, "I can't blame you for that. After the death of the queen…well, I suppose all would want to give their dues to her."

"I would," her father murmured. "Ever since I-"

"Don't," Romani murmured. She met his eye. "I'm not in the mood for it father. You told me those stories for years and I'm a woman of thirty-two now. I'm well past them."

"They're not stories Romani."

"And did Queen, sorry, _Princess _Zelda know that? Mother often said that you two shared something."

"We did. But not what I shared with your mother."

"No," she murmured. "Of course not."

She cast her mind back to the day before – to the great funeral procession of Queen Zelda of Hyrule, accompanied by her daughter and husband. The body had been transported from the castle, through the town, before entering Kakariko Village to be entombed in the cold earth beneath the town. Romani had stayed in Castle Town only. Her father…she didn't know what he'd been doing after she'd lost sight of him.

_Here's to you then father_. She looked at him, noting that at the ripe age of sixty-nine, he was older than most hylians. Certainly he'd outlived her grandfather, along with her husband's father…her mother…

"We should get back," her father said. He rose to his feet. "She isn't here today. Maybe someday she will. But the ranch-"

"Father, I'm not going back to the ranch. I've told you this over and over."

He looked down at her, a look of despair in his one good eye shining as brightly as the sun did through the temple's windows. "Romani…I know that the ranch hasn't seen good times, but-"

"The ranch is dead," Romani snapped. "Inigo and I are going to sell it, and its livestock, and use what we have to retire to Ordon Village."

"That's miles away."

"It is father, it is. Still, it's near Faron Woods." She gave him a smile, before it turned into a sneer. "Besides, this is for the best, isn't it? You told me so often that you grew up among the kokiri, so now I'm going back to the forest."

"Back to the forest?"

"Well, not the Kokiri Forest." The smirk faded, even if the smile didn't return. Among her father's stories was his tale of growing up among the kokiri – the so-called Children of the Forest. He'd actually taken here there after her tenth birthday. He'd taken her to a deserted village within the woods that he claimed he'd grown up in – he'd even shown her his old house. At the time, she'd believed it without question, but whatever the truth of the matter, if the kokiri had ever existed, it was clear that they'd retreated from their old lands, perhaps vanishing deeper into the woods. She'd pestered him then to let him show here the Great Deku Tree, but he'd turned them both around, later claiming that it was by the tree's wishes that its children be left alone.

In hindsight, it was clear that no such tree existed, and that he didn't want to spoil the game. But returning to the present, as she watched him pick up his satchel…

"Father?" she asked.

She had to say something. Anything.

"You can't stop me you know."

Even that. Though he ignored her, but cursed as his withered hand dropped the satchel.

"Father, I

"Father, I know you've never liked Inigo-"

"I've never disliked your husband. You know that."

"Not disliking someone isn't the same as liking them. And besides, we all know that you only didn't like him because you outright disliked Ingo."

He looked round at her, his one remaining eye narrowing. "That's not true."

"Really? Because when you told me stories of your adventures, of a supposed alternate time where Ingo betrayed my grandfather, served some evil king, and did all matter of nasty things to my mother, you-"

"They're not stories!"

Romani was surprised at her father's sudden display of strength. Surprised, and a moment after that, dismayed. Because either he was truly mad, or he was determined to play this charade to the end of his years.

"Father…" Romani sighed, and watched as her father went back to pick up the satchel. "Father, I…oh for goodness sake, let me." She scooped up the satchel and handed it to him.

"I had it."

"Oh yes father, you had it. Like so many things. I…" She took a breath. "No. I'm not going to do this. The queen's died, the realm's in mourning, and a week from now, I'll be in Ordon. I'm not going to argue with you."

Her father grunted and went to pick up his sword and staff. Unlike the satchel, she didn't pick either of them up. The staff was to help her father walk. The sword was to help him cling onto a past that was only partially true.

"Inigo sends his regards, by the way," Romani murmured. "I know that you weren't there for the wedding, since, you know, you were killing moblins…"

"Stalfos."

"Whatever – monsters of some kind anyway. But he sends them all the same. And once we've had our first child, you're still welcome to visit."

Her father glanced at her. "Children?"

"Yes, father, children. Believe it or not, I do know how it works."

She couldn't help but smile as she remembered her wedding night. Unfortunately, her father wasn't sharing her smile. "Children," he murmured. "That's dangerous. Maybe necessary. But…"

"What are you yammering on about father?"

He sat down again, put his sword and staff beside him again, and took a book out of his satchel.

"Father?"

"There's a bloodline that you and I share," he said. "After your mother died, I-"

"Don't bring my mother into this."

He looked up at her. She could tell that even five years after her mother's death, the wound for her father was as fresh as it was for her.

"Don't bring her into this," she repeated. "I know that my mother believed your stories, or she did, towards the end, when her mind was giving out with her body."

"Romani, they were never stories. I-"

"Stop!" she yelled, her words echoing throughout the temple. She began to pace around, while tearing away at her hair. "Just, stop. For once in your life, just…stop."

Her father didn't say anything. But as far as stopping went, neither her legs nor mouth obliged.

"The stories you told me as a child," Romani said. "Spiritual Stones, the Triforce, sages, a king of evil, princesses, fairies, talking trees, medallions, the Master Sword…I loved them. As a child, I loved them. And I loved even more the stories you told me of Termina – of giants, of masks, of a girl you met on a ranch like this one. The girl who reminded you of my mother, and how after losing everyone in Hyrule to time, you still had her…" She paused for breath, her throat throbbing, her eyes watering. "I loved them. And my mother loved them too, just as she did us."

Her father said nothing. He just sat there, looking up at her. Waiting for her to speak.

"And you know what?" Romani asked. "Even when you weren't there, even when you were out riding Epona, searching for fairies, or slaying monsters, or doing all those heroic things…you know what? I still loved them. Or at least, the memory of them. Only…only then grandfather died, and my mother died, and Ingo died, and you've had one hand on your sword and one hand clutching a book ever since." She stopped pacing around and met her father's gaze, her hands clutching her dress like a drowning man to a raft. "So once, father, please…just once, in your damn life, would you live in the real world!"

She stood there, breathing heavily. Her father sat there – the book was still in his hands, but he laid it in his lap as he lowered his gaze.

"Even if it was true," Romani whispered, "you can't relive the past."

Her father chuckled. "I know you can't," he whispered. He looked up at her, and Romani could see tears in his one good eye. "Romani…I loved your mother. She loved you. But they were never stories. Time…memories weren't carried across time, but in the end, she believed them. When she leant me Epona that day, before I travelled to Termina looking for Navi…even then, part of her believed them." He looked around, towards the Door of Time. "But you're right, Romani – I can't relive the past. I've come to this place year after year, hoping that Navi would return. More so, after everyone around me moved on, or passed away – people of one time, not knowing their histories in the next." He looked back at her. "I never had a father. Or a mother. But having you…"

Romani said nothing. She was on the verge of tears as well.

"…but having you made me think," her father said. He handed her the book on an open page. "I couldn't change the past, but I could learn from it."

There was writing in the book, but she couldn't read the script – it was reminiscent of Hylian, but clearly of an older time. But it wasn't the writing that caught her attention, but rather the image on the page. There was a boy wearing a green hat and a green tunic. He had golden hair and was carrying a sword. He was young – as young as she'd been when she'd started to suspect that her father's stories might just be that – stories. He was fighting some kind of giant black eyeball thing.

"Father?" she asked. "Who is this?"

"My ancestor," he whispered. "And your ancestor. And the ancestor of your child, and the ancestor of their child, and so on, and so forth."

Romani scoffed. "What, you find some random hero in a book that looks like you, and you think you're descended from them?"

"Turn the pages back Romani."

Raising an eyebrow, she did so. And the eyebrow (both in fact) was raised higher as she saw the images repeated over and over. A boy. A girl. A monster. Always the same two, always the same gathering of three, until at the first image of the book, was a sight of them yet again (or rather, for the first time). A boy of green. A girl of white. And a giant of black armour and raging fire.

"It's a cycle," her father whispered. "Repeated over, and over, and over."

Romani slowly lowered the book. She watched as her father got to her feet, slinging his sword over his back, and taking the staff in his hands.

"Romani, I hope your child doesn't repeat the cycle, as I did," he whispered. "But if that happens…" He sighed. "I never taught you the way of the sword. But I-"

She tossed the book back into his hands. "Go to hell," she whispered.

"Romani?"

"I've had it," she said. "I've had it with your stories, and your madness, and everything else. My mother's dead, and you were here, when she was lying on the bed. Waiting for some blasted fairy."

"Romani…"

"Fairy Boy," Romani whispered. "She kept asking for her Fairy Boy. Do you…do you even understand, what it was like, holding her hand as she died? Goddesses damn it, every time I ride at night I swear I can hear her song!"

"So can I," her father whispered.

She snorted. "So we're both mad then."

"No. Not mad."

"No father, you are. And I…" She took a breath. "And I will always love you. The good times I'll cherish, and the ill, I'll try and move past from. But for all your heroics in this world, those times are past."

"And if they come again?"

"Then I'm sure yet another hero will rise to defeat your monster," she murmured. "I mean, what, you used to tell me that Ganondorf rose to power in your alternate timeline, rather than being tried and executed by the king all those decades ago? Well then, let him come back. In the meantime though…" She looked at her father, whose gaze was lingering on the windows.

"Father?"

"Tempus vincit omnia," he whispered. He looked back at Romani. "Time conquers all." He began to put the book back in the bag. "It's what it says above the entrance to the temple, and it remains as true now as when those words were carved. Time will come for our bloodline, Romani. And when it does…"

Romani sighed, and helped him put the book back in the bag. She loved her father, in spite of everything. But not as much as she might have if he'd remained true to his namesake – Link. He'd forged a link with her mother, he'd forged a link with her grandfather, and without doubt, over the years, had forged a link with her. But in hindsight, it was clear that he was never fully content. And if the stories were true, if he'd parted ways across timelines, if all his deeds no longer counted for anything…then yes, she could understand that. Understand why he'd taken up the sword as an errand boy for the queen, slaying monsters and all that. Perhaps understand why he'd sought out the fairy who'd done all of that with him.

But it was a story. All of it. And she had to live in the real world, even if her father refused to. Nevertheless, she extended her hand to him.

"Come on," she said. "The town's still in mourning, but I'm sure we can find something to…to take our minds off these times." She smiled. "I mean, you can show me the spot where you and my mother first met."

"Again?" he asked.

She withdrew her hand. "Don't do this father. Please."

He said nothing, and it dawned on Romani just how old he looked. Fading away. Almost like a shade…

"Father?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Of course," he said. "I…" He took a step, but stumbled. Romani caught him.

"Father, are you alright?"

He nodded, as he put a hand to his heart. "Fine. Fine."

It wasn't a story of his. It was a lie. And not a particularly good one at that. Nevertheless, she let him get to his feet and walk on, as she followed him out of the temple. Casting one last glance at the dais that was meant to be designed for the Spiritual Stones, and beyond it, the Dawn of Time. The place where, according to his stories, he had drawn the Sword of Evil's bane. The sword that he had used to strike down the King of Evil, before he was sent back to the beginning. All that, before she followed her father out into the light.

* * *

They had one year before he died. Before he joined the grave beside her mother's and grandfather's, beside a ranch that would leave this world before she did.

Time, in the end, conquered all.

* * *

_A/N_

_Got the idea for this when I walked into the lobby of an office building. There was a clock on display and below it was the phrase "time conquers all." Which struck me as a bit odd - not so much the phrase itself (plenty of works, and not just OoT, have explored the 'themes' of time, so to speak), but that I wouldn't have though it would be how you'd want to welcome people entering your office block._

_Anyway, drabbled this up._


End file.
